


A Fallen Star

by historiCthrenody (Cookieluv246)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Doomed Timelines, Gen, God Tier, Immortality, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookieluv246/pseuds/historiCthrenody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who are you?<br/>Where are you?<br/>Where should you be?<br/>You are nobody.<br/>You are the wind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fallen Star

You can feel it, the way it caresses and rocks you. Gently, lovingly, pushing oxygen through your pores; air sucked into your lungs in one long inhale and flows out all the tension in the other. All of it, everything feels at ease, and as you open your eyes, there is nothing; it’s black. As usual. You expect nothing less at this point. You wouldn't know if you were blind as you could feel the grey starting to cover your iris. The once deep blue growing more dull as time wisps by.

It’s funny, in that hardly laughing matter sort of way, how much you can show in just your crippled frame. Weak, pale, lips tinted blue, and eyes worn heavy. As if you hadn't slept for years, which in reality you probably haven't, but you can dream. Wish, wonder, but passively so. It’s exhausting to put in too much thought into one thing anymore. It’s exhausting to just, be. To exist, is a horrendous amount of work.

But exist you do, because you can hardly call it living. This existence of yours, is as fluid as each unnecessary breath you take. Your fingers twitch, nerves still work. You wouldn't know, you hadn't had to lift a finger in a long time. You blink as you keep staring out throughout the medium. It’s cold. You’re not sure if it’s space or if it’s just you. It always feels cold now, your clothes feel like dead weight, and your bones feel hollow. Everything about you could be blown away, _everything about you could just disappear_.

But nobody knows it.

Nobody will miss you.

Nobody _can_ miss you.

You’re odd, to put it lightly. You’re odd, but you are too exhausted to count all the ways how. So instead, you blink, and continue breathing. It’s still cold, so you lick your lips. It’s dry--so is your tongue. You try to think, what is it you want to think about? You have all the thoughts in the world. Your life is run on memories, but not just of your own. As you float through time and space, you sometimes drift in to others. Many of them yours of a different self, one whom was more accomplished then you could ever hope to dream. Some of a species you can hardly remember, their names foggier than their faces, of which you have never met.

Why are you conscious?

You ask yourself this as you nestle into your long blue hood. It’s a small comfort, your only comfort. Though what do you need comfort for? You don’t feel hurt. You barely feel anything. Still, it settles your simple need, and you find your thumb rest upon your dried cracked lips, and you lightly begin suckling. This is rather meaningless, you were weened of this a long time ago, but old habits die hard.

Plus, who is there to judge you for it?

There’s _nobody_ remember?

But it’s alright, well it’s not, but you’re use to this level of depravity. You are worthless, like garbage not put in it’s proper bin. You are like floating pieces of debris, in a timeless ocean. You are probably the most exhausted person who only ever sleeps.

So you wait, and just allow time to blanket your journey to wherever your destination.

You don’t have any hopes, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to die one day.

Maybe the universe will show you a small shred of mercy.

But you don’t expect it to.

It never has before.


End file.
